


Royal Whims

by rogue_1102



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Oral Sex, Painting, Shower Sex, paint war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 01:17:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogue_1102/pseuds/rogue_1102
Summary: Royalty always gets what they want...





	Royal Whims

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the NFCU commercial: Paint
> 
> https://youtu.be/NJeoJrkOtxE
> 
> Thanks to Pouch, Lady_Red, LadiSaiyan, and my fellow RFL Areo_ian 
> 
> Check out the rest of the collection here..it’s amazing: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Daddy_is_Pink

* * *

He was on his way to the Gravity Room, when high pitched squeals and giggles started to echo down the hall. 

_ Gah! What is that noise? _

He had just passed the living room, and knew that Trunks was with Goten, playing video games; therefore, there was only one culprit left who could lead this assault on his ear drums. 

Vegeta narrowed his eyes, scowled and attempted to find the source of the sounds. With every step, the sounds increased in pitch and frequency. Finally his quest brought him to the door with a hanging, beflowered sign labeled “Bulla”. 

“Look Daddy! It’s pink!” Came the excited squeal from his daughter when he walked into the room.

Vegeta looked up, and his eyes were assaulted with the loudest, most obnoxious color of pink he had ever seen. The sudden blast of color immediately stopped his forward momentum. He could not help but stare, dumbfounded and slack jawed, at the transformation that had occurred. 

His daughter was happily waving a brush full of the same bright color, leaving splatter trails on the wall and herself. There were also multiple handprints of the color littering the wall that were about Bulla-height.

His eyes turned to his wife, who was sitting on a small ladder. Her smock was also paint speckled, but less so than their daughter’s. She was trying to maintain a straight face, but was failing to hide her own smile behind her paintbrush.

Bulla ran up and gave Vegeta a big hug around his legs. He looked down at the shining, happy eyes of his little girl and brought a white, gloved hand to her head to gently pat it. Inwardly, he cringed at the thought of the paint staining his armour and the inevitability of having to stare at that repulsive color every time he said goodnight to his daughter. Outwardly, he merely nodded seriously and said, “Yes, a worthy color for a Saiyan princess.”

He heard Bulma laugh and he arched a dignified eyebrow in her direction. His accompanying scowl and haughty expression only intensified her giggles, until she finally rolled her eyes at his attempt at subterfuge. Bulla did not seem to notice, or did not care about the exchange, and nodded excitedly.

“Here Daddy, you can help!”

“Wha-“. 

Before he could protest, Bulla thrust the paint brush into his hand, brush side first, and started to run out of the room. “Young lady!” Bulma’s voiced briefly stopped the retreating girl in her tracks. “Since you’re done helping, go take a bath and change before you run through the house. 

Bulla nodded and left, her feet sounding like a herd of baby dinosaurs stampeding down the hall. Vegeta looked down at the paintbrush in his hand in horror. The abysmal color had completely ruined his glove. He glanced around for a cleansing cloth and, upon finding none, walked over to Bulma to wipe his hand on her smock.

“Hey! What did you do that for?” She yelled.

“What? That _ is _what this covering is for, isn’t it!? He answered heatedly.

Bulma scoffed, and climbed down from her perch. When she reached the bottom, she turned to a paint tray, which had a paint roller sitting in it. Without a word, she knelt down, picked up the paint roller and swiped a long stripe from the top of his chest down to his groin. 

Vegeta turned his head to look at his wife in the eye, and replied matter-of-factly, “That was childish of you. All you have done is made more work for yourself since I will require a replacement as soon as possible.” 

Bulma huffed with frustration. He knew she took it as a challenge to try and provoke reactions from him, but he would not give her the satisfaction this time. He watched as she knelt down and loaded the paint roller again. “Well, if it’s ruined, then you won’t mind if I do this!”

She crisscrossed the paint roller across his chest piece, covering more of his torso. “You know, I could also paint your back and then write ‘Badman’ on the back. Then you’d have a set of armour that matches your favorite shirt.”

That final statement hit its mark, and Vegeta quickly grabbed the roller out of his wife’s hands and threw it on the plastic covered floor. “You do that, and I’ll…” He paused, his mind trying to find the perfect threat but coming up short on actual actions he could take. “You’ll...do.. what?” She challenged, her finger poking his chest with every word.

Seeing no other recourse, he picked up a nearby can of purple accent paint. 

“Don’t even think about it Vegeta.”

He grinned wickedly, and proceeded to open the small can slowly. 

“You better not.”

Vegeta only nodded in response. Finally he looked at the can, then back at her and upended the can’s entire contents all over her front, shoulders and back. Bulma shivered and gasped in shock as the cool paint ran down the back of her clothes and the front of her smock. 

“You asshole!” 

Vegeta barked out a laugh and smugly crossed his arms over his chest. Bulma raced over to a large can of pink paint, and completely drenched him with its contents. He retaliated with equal intensity, and soon the walls were splattered with huge, inelegant swaths of purple and pink.

When there were no more cans to empty, their eyes met and they shared a chuckle at the state of the room and themselves. After a parlay was called, they stood and wiped the paint off each others faces. Bulma removed her smock and he could see the purple highway that ran across her body. “You look like that damnable purple dinosaur Bulla likes to watch.” He let his eyes wander downwards and admire the way the paint caused the fabric of her tank top to stick to her generous curves. 

“Well, you look nice with pink highlights.” She replied with equal humor. He grunted at the thought and began to unbuckle his chest piece. After he threw it and his gloves on the floor, Bulma walked forward and proceeded to help him lift his, now sticky, under armor off. As he raised it over his head, he felt her trace her nails over his bare chest. He groaned pleasurably at the contact, and tossed the ruined garment to the side. 

Vegeta looked down and saw that the paint had managed to seep its way past the seams of his armour and he was as equally mussed as his wife. Bulma turned to pick up the discarded cans and paint paraphernalia, but Vegeta stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait...you missed a spot.” 

She scoffed goodnaturedly, and gestured down at her whole body. He frowned at her dismissal, but picked up her smock and used a somewhat clean corner of it to wipe some stray paint from her forehead.

As he carefully dabbed the paint streak, he felt Bulma’s breath skirt across his face and he looked down upon her flushed visage. She licked her full lips, and he saw her eyes drift towards his own. Vegeta threw down the cloth and clasped her face with both hands, kissing her deeply. She moaned and threaded her fingers into his matted hair, pulling it slightly in her eagerness. He grabbed her pert rear and pressed her soft body closer to his hard one. The paint on their bodies smeared messily, but he was completely heedless to anything except the feel of their bodies together. 

“Daddy! You and Mommy are pink too!” They both froze and looked towards the door where a freshly cleaned, and dressed, Bulla was standing. They sighed and disentangled themselves from each other. Bulma walked to the doorway, and Vegeta turned as if to gather their soiled garments in an attempt to hide his obvious arousal.

“Don’t come in here now Bulla. You’ll get dirty again.” Bulma cautioned gently when the little girl looked like she was going to enter the room.

Bulla nodded, and then looked around the room thoughtfully. “You know, I like this better.” She stated finally. “You and Daddy do good work.”

“Uh...thank you sweetie.”

“You’re welcome. Trunks said he and Goten want pizza for dinner.” 

“Fine. Let me and Dad clean up, and we’ll all go out.” Bulla bounced on the balls of her feet, excited by the prospect of going to her favorite restaurant. “Go sit with the boys until then, and don’t come into this room!”

Bulma watched her daughter’s retreating form disappear down the hallway, and gasped as she felt her feet, and body leave the ground.

“I’ve got you.” Vegeta replied, his voice low and reassuring in her ear. When she looked down, she saw that he was slightly hovering about the floor.

“Beside, we wouldn’t want to get paint on the carpet would we?”

She slapped his chest, leaving behind a partial, purple handprint. “Since when do you care about that?”

“I don’t...but you do.” He carried her, bridal style, into their bedroom and master bathroom.Once the doors to both were closed, he set her down on the tiled floor and stepped away so that she could remove her clothes. 

“I think we went a tad overboard, don’t you think?” Bulma asked as she removed the final piece of purple stained clothing and let it drop to the floor. She gestured towards her naked body in jest, and turned on the shower; however, he saw nothing funny about her current state. If this had been an actual battle, and not a childish indulgence, those purplish pink smears would have been the blood of their enemies. That thought alone was one that made his own blood run hotter, but he focused on her question.

“Nonsense. The room has been improved upon, and it is no longer a pink monstrosity that is an affront to...”

“Well, if the Princess of all Saiyans approves, who am I to argue?” She quickly interjected and stepped into the 360 degree mega shower. 

As Vegeta finished removing his own garments, he watched her grab her cleansing cloths and begin to put various gel and soaps on it. The water, shooting as jets within the wall, caused the colors to streak and run like dual-toned rivers down her porcelain skin. 

Bulma closed her eyes, obviously enjoying the feel of the heated water on her skin. As she moaned and groaned at the feel of the pressurized jets on her muscles, he found himself opening the shower door and moving behind her. The water caused the paint on his body to run off and mix in a swirl of colors in the drain as he took the cloths from her hands and teasingly swabbed her body with the soft item. 

Despite the hot water, he saw her shiver and press her thighs closer together. Once her arousal hit his nostrils, heady and heavy, he turned her around and pulled her closer. His own desire, fully evident and throbbing, pressed into her creamy flesh as he brought his hand up to gently caress her cheek. “And what does my Queen want?” He asked as she leaned into his touch.

She smiled, a mischievous look in her eyes, and then bit the corner of her lip before slightly pushing downwards on his shoulder with her hand. “So, she wants me to kneel. Very well.” He cocked an eyebrow before pushing her back against the wall and lowering himself on one knee before her. “Allow me to show the proper reverence.” The water from the shower poured down his face, and caused his hair to fall about his shoulders.

Vegeta took her foot and raised it to sit on his knee. He inched the cloth up her leg and allowed his lips to follow its path, stopping briefly to listen to her breathy exhalations and to graze his teeth on areas he knew were sensitive. As he came to the apex of her thighs, he eased her leg onto his shoulder. 

“Vegeta.”

He chuckled darkly. There was nothing he enjoyed more than hearing his name on his woman’s lips. He brought his mouth to her dripping sex and took his time, alternating between long swipes of his course tongue on her luscious folds and rapid flicks on her engorged bud. Bulma voice keened in pleasure, her short breaths tinged with little whines. With a murmur of satisfaction, he thrust his tongue deeper inside her core, enjoying her taste and the delightful noises that came from above him. 

Soon he felt Bulma begin to tense, and her thighs started to tremble. He turned his attention back to her swollen nub and plunged two fingers inside her warmth, scissoring them back and forth. Her back arched as her release came hard and long and he saw her cover her mouth to stop her cries. He growled his approval as her fluids coated his face and her thighs gripped his head.

When he heard her breathing start to even out, he rose but kept her weight resting on his arms. Vegeta locked eyes with his wife, her irises almost completely black. Bulma nodded her assent, and he brought her down upon his waiting hardness. He groaned as he felt her heat envelope and gripped him tightly. A possessive growl escaped his lips and he captured hers with a demanding kiss as he began to pump forcefully into her. 

Bulma grasped his hair firmly, mating her tongue with his as she allowed him to control the tempo of their joining. He watched as one of her hands disentangled itself from his hair, and continued downward to drag her nails on the hard planes of his chest. Although not painful, the pressure spurred him on and Vegeta rolled his hips forward. The sudden change in angle caused her to gasp sharply. “Faster.” She pleaded, and dropped her hand to frantically caress her aching bud. He quickly obeyed, and snapped his hips faster into her tightening canal feeling his own release threatening to overtake him.

“Vegeta.”

“Bulma.”

Their names fell from each other’s lips as they reached the summit of their pleasure together. The water, now cool, ran down both of their bodies; however, the heat from their coupling banished any feelings of cold. 

Vegeta eased her down lightly, and when Bulma’s feet hit the floor she slightly stumbled forward on shaking legs. “Your Queen...also approves.” She replied after a moment. “Now, let me wash my Prince's hair...”

————————————————-

Hours later the whole family, plus Goten, sat at their local pizza chain devouring pie after pie. Bulma had called before they left to warn the restaurant of their impending arrival. Luckily, the family run chain was used to their dine-ins and tips, and had readily met their demands for food.

The conversation around the table was lively, except for Vegeta who never interjected unless specifically addressed. Bulla was talking quite happily about her room to the boys; however, although Trunks and Goten dutifully listened, they were more concerned about the food in front of them and talking about the levels they still had to beat on their game.

“And it’s pink and purple just like a Princess. And when we get married Goten, we can have a pink cake and then you’ll get to be a Prince because only royalty gets to be in our family.

Trunks choked on his soda, half spraying it across the table, at his sister’s sudden declaration. Goten looked positively horrified, and punched Trunks in the arm when his friend wouldn’t stop laughing. Bulma also started to laugh until she heard a low, menacing growl emanating from the head of the table. Her eyes widened as the dinnerware start to vibrate and the glasses start to crack from the waves of rage that were rolling off her husband.

_ Oh no, not again. _

A thick vein was pulsing and throbbing at Vegeta’s temple. His hands gripped the tablecloth and the accompanying look he leveled the young boy was one that made Goten shrink into his chair. 

"Boy, if you don't leave this table now...you're going to regret it."

  



End file.
